Harry Potter and the Grandfather Clock
by Arashi no Aoi
Summary: AU. Rescued by his real aunt, Harry learns the truth about his mother and the legacy she left behind. He will have to finish what she started, or else find himself and his family lost in time forever.
1. Chapter 1

A.N. : Welcome. Enjoy.

Warning: Strong language, neglect past and present, minor blood, original character (but no Mary Sue).

CHAPTER 1: WHERE THINGS DEVIATE

It was business as usual in the Ministry of Magic. The paper memos flew from room to room, the Department of Games and Sports was echoing with laughter, and nobody took notice of the muted explosion coming from the Department of Mysteries. Though noise and activity did cease by an enraged roar from the Wizarding Registration and Records department.

"He's _where?_"

"Ma'am, if you would please calm down-"

"_Don't you tell me to calm down!_ Why in the Nine Hells wasn't I notified when my sister was _murdered __six years ago?_ And for that matter, who the _fuck_ told you it would be a good idea to leave my nephew with those sorry excuses for human beings? Well?"

Clara Booker was having a bad day. Not only did she get to work late, but when she got there, it looked like a pack of imps had gotten loose from the Regulation and Control of Magical Beasts. The office was in a shambles, and she had had to clean it up before she could get started on her actual work. Now there was an irate woman in front of her desk, demanding to know why she hadn't been notified of Lily Potters' death. It took all of her self-control not to ask the woman what world she had been on to not have known about that night. She took a deep breath.

"Ma'am, if I could explain-"

"No, forget it. Just tell me where my nephew is and I'll get him myself."

Clara's temper was on the verge of breaking. "I can't allow you to do that."

Now the woman looked confused as well as angry. "Why the Hell not?"

Dimly, both women were aware of a soft snapping sound. "Because Harry is already living with his aunt!"

"Do you really think I would be in here wasting my time with you if he was with me to begin with? What are you, stupid?"

"Don't you call me stupid! I'm just trying to do my job, whereas you are trying to kidnap-"

The temperature in the room dropped noticeably, as did the woman's voice. "Don't you _dare_ call me a kidnapper when I am trying to _rescue_ my nephew!" she paused to take a deep breath, visibly forcing herself to calm down. "Now, what am I going to have to do to convince you that I am his actual aunt?"

Clara waved her wand and the drawers on her desk slid open, a sheet of parchment and a needle zooming out to land before the woman. "Take the needle and prick your finger with it, and allow the blood to fall the paper. No more than three drops, if you please." When the woman had done as was asked, Clara pulled the sheet closer to herself and began a complicated charm.

With her arms crossed and foot tapping in impatience, Clara nearly lost her concentration in favor of screaming at the woman, but to interrupt the charm at this point could prove fatal. So she did the only thing she could do at this point and ignored the woman in favor of exposing her as an impostor.

The charm finished, Clara set her wand down and looked to the now glowing drops of blood. They spread out, and began to form the names of the woman and her specified relatives.

Cameron Tempest ---Lilith Potter nee Evens-Tempest---Harold James Potter

Clara just sat there, staring at the page in shock. This couldn't be possible, it just couldn't be! Albus had assured her that Harry was with his family, and that he would be safe. If she hadn't just cast the spell with her own wand…swallowing hard, she looked up to who she now knew was Cameron.

"If you would be willing to wait for just one moment, Miss Tempest, I'll go and get you that address."

"Thank you."

-scenechangetimeskipscenechangetimeskipscenechangetimeskip-

Harry Potter, age seven, huddled in the darkness of his cupboard, straining his hearing for the sounds of his family finally going down for the night. It had been a rough day for the small boy, and the freak storm that had blown in around three that afternoon had chased all souls inside. Petunia almost hadn't let him in, but a glance across the street to number 7 showed the nosy lady living there to be staring right at them; his aunts' grudging expression wasn't lost on Harry. He was just thankful that he had been allowed to finish the small amount of homework he had before being sent to his cupboard.

Dinner was a meager affair, so now he waited for his family to join the land of dreams so he could sneak into the kitchen and get something to eat. He wasn't starved, exactly, but there was never as much as he wanted. Plus, Dudley always made it a point to eat so much that there was never any leftover for Harry to have seconds. It was maddening to the smaller boy, who just couldn't find in his kind nature to be mean or even to hate someone who was cruel to him. Sighing, Harry rested his head on his knees, silently wishing for a family who loved him, and to come and get him.

The sharp sound of someone knocking on the front door made him squeak and twitch in his seat. From upstairs the sounds of his uncle growling and grumbling as he hauled himself out of his room and down the stairs filtered into the cupboard. Harry wondered, not for the first time, if his uncle were to stand still on the stairs, would they cave in on him? Absently, he counted the steps his uncle took to get from the foot of the stairs to the front door, then when the door opened, the sound of the storm still going outside muted the voices of his uncle and whoever was at the door. The voices rose for a moment, then his uncle howled in pain. _'What was going on out there?'_

Vernon Dursley was not known for his patience, nor his ability to tolerate other people, especially those who did not fit his ideas on what was normal. He was also notorious around the neighborhood for hating to have his sleep disturbed. Waking him up usually meant him bellowing at the person who did it, and waking up the block in the process.

This night was no exception. Just as he was climbing into bed next to his lovely wife, someone started pounding on the door. "Better be important," he grumbled, then promised Petunia that he'd take care of the door. Down the stairs and to the front door, he opened it to see a soaked young woman on his doorstep. He tried to be polite, despite the late hour. "Can I help you, miss?"

"Perhaps you can. Are you Mr. Vernon Dursley?" her eyes were cold, appraising him from head to toe and finding him lacking. He bristled, gathering up his considerable girth to stare her down.

"And if I was?"

She wasn't impressed. "Then I am here to collect my nephew, Harry Potter."

Vernon's face turned an interesting shade of purple. "There is no one here by that name!" he yelled. "Now leave-"

He was cut off by a blinding pain in his nose. Faster than he could follow, the woman had punched him in the nose, temporarily stealing his sight and making him howl in pain. Almost on instinct, he had backed away from her, leaving the door open for the woman and the falling rain to enter. With both hands on his nose and his sight returning, he stared at her in shock. She sneered at him. "Don't insult my intelligence, Dursley. Now, _where is my nephew_?"

Opening his mouth to speak, Vernon found that he could not force a single sound past his throat. Up until that point, the large man hadn't been able to distinguish any features other than the obvious; that she was a woman. Now, though, her eyes were glowing an intense shade of royal blue, and when the lightening flashed, it revealed her to have brilliant red hair, similar to-

"Lily!" screamed Petunia from the stairs. She had been summoned from her bed by her husbands yells, and with the latest flash of heaven-born electricity, she had caught sight of a face she hadn't seen in years. A face she had tried her hardest to forget. The woman shifted her gaze to Petunia.

"Almost," she said, still glowering. "I'm here for Harry. Hand him over or I'll destroy you all."

Petunia swallowed hard. As fast as she dared, she scuttled down the stairs and over to the cupboard, yanking it open. Bewildered, Harry was about to ask what was going on when his arm was grasped in a firm grip and he was hauled to his feet. The boy found himself dragged across the living room and all but tossed into the arms of someone who was soaking wet. "Thanks." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Then Harry was pulled into the storm without so much as a 'by your leave', the distance between him and the Dursleys' becoming greater with every step taken.

Cameron set a harsh pace, not realizing that Harry, who was not only shorter than her but was also barefoot, was having trouble keeping up. It wasn't until he tripped, pulling on her arm with his full weight, that she was aware of his plight. Gently, she set him on his feet and led him to a large tree, where they had some shelter from the rain. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I couldn't stay in that house another minute. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he mumbled, a little shy around this woman who had pulled him from the Dursleys. "Who're you?"

Cameron blushed. "Where is my head, I completely forgot myself. I'm your Aunt Cameron, and I'm going to take you home with me."

"Auntie Cameron?" Harry blinked, looking at her carefully. "You're my auntie?"

"Yes, sweetheart, I am. Petunia isn't really your aunt, she was only pretending. And I promise, you don't have to go back there ever again."

The raw hope in his eyes was almost too much to bear. "Never?" he whispered.

Cameron gave him her best 'I-am-your-friend-and-I only-want-what's-best-for-you' smile.

"Never ever, sweetheart." The excited grin he gave her warmed her heart; the sneeze from the next instant made her laugh. "Alright, enough mushy stuff. Let's get you home."

"Yeah!"

-scenechangetimeskipscenechangetimeskipscenechangetimeskip-

Severus Snape was grouchy. Granted, this was nothing new, but tonight was an especially bad night. Tonight, he was being forced to follow Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall through what felt like the storm of the century to find the Potter brat from wherever he was hiding and bring him home. Though he would never admit it, he could understand the reason the brat had left. His brief exposure to those disgusting muggles had worn his already tired patience to transparency. How the child was expecting to live with them and not emerge as the next Dark Lord… Severus shook his head to clear it. He wasn't feeling sorry for the whelp, was he? No, it was the principle of the thing. The muggles should have been kissing the floor where he stood just because he was a wizard, and yet they treated him like a house-elf. They even had the gall to insult not only himself, but Albus and Minerva as well, three of the most respected (or notorious, depending on the source) teachers of the greatest magical school in the U.K. Not that he'd admit that he respected Minerva; she was his sort of rival, after all. Suddenly, he could hear Dumbledore over the howl of the wind.

"Halt right there!"

Unnoticed by Severus, he and his comrades had caught up with the boy, and to his surprise, the child wasn't alone. There was a woman with him, if that skirt was any indication as to the gender. A though struck the Potions Master, one that had him wondering if maybe, just maybe, the brat _wasn't_ trying to make him miserable. Maybe was totally different from James; maybe he was Lily's baby. Violently, he expelled the idea from his mind. Now was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts; he needed to focus on getting the boy back. He forced himself to listen to the conversation taking place around him.

"And we know how well _that_ worked!" the woman was yelling at Albus. He winced.

"It was never my intention for the boy to suffer-"

"Then why the Hell was he placed with them?"

"I thought it best-"

"_Excuse me_?" bellowed the woman. The rain seemed to fall harder around them. "Who the fuck gave you the right to decide his fate? Isn't that the Child Services' job?"

"Now see here-" once again the old man was cut off.

"No, _you_ see here! Harry is _my_ nephew, and he is going to live with me. End of story. We're leaving." She turned to a dark mass on the ground next to her, and with the next flash of lightening the three teachers were able to see what it was. The woman and Harry were standing next to a pond in a muggle park, both moving closer to it. Severus had only one thought – _She was mad!_

The wind kicked up, unbalancing the teachers, and in the light of the next flash, they could only watch as the woman leapt over the edge, taking the boy with her.

Minerva screamed, and Albus lashed out with his magic as best he could, but he missed. As the wind and rain began to ease up, the three forced their way to the water's edge. There was no sign of either person, and scan of the pond only showed it to be knee deep and devoid of life. Where had they gone?

A.N.: I'm told reviewing is the polite thing to do at this point.


	2. Chapter 2

A.N.:I would say I was sorry for the long update, but then I'd be lying. Real life has taken up so much of my time that I've well nigh forgotten what sleep was, much less how to create. This chapter is shorter than what I would have preferred, but as the next bit is refusing to cooperate with me, you'll just have to wait as well.

And to those of you who not only reviewed, but were patient as well, thank you for not adding to the pressure of my jobs/school/family/social life. May your holidays go exactly as you planned them.

CHAPTER 2

He was falling, Harry had decided. He felt like he was falling through something wet like water, thick like over-stuffed pillows, and light like the afternoon breeze at the park. It was a most unusual sensation for the boy, and only the thought that he might still be under water kept him from opening his mouth to ask what was happening. The light was missing as well, leaving him and his aunt falling through darkness. Just as Harry was beginning to wonder what had happened to the lightening from the storm, a brilliant flash blinded him, making him shut his eyes, and his feet touched the ground.

"Okay, we're here," said Cameron, a little relief in her voice. Harry peeked out one eye, then fully opened them both when he saw that the light was dim. The two of them were standing ankle deep in a small stream, the far bank thick with trees. A tugging on his hand, still clasped in Cameron's, prompted him to turn to the near bank and begin sloshing out of the water. This side didn't have nearly as many trees, with long stretches of flat land dotted with the occasional shrub or willow tree. From the waters edge, Harry could see an old-fashioned cottage some way off. He looked up at his aunt, and she smiled at him.

"That's our home. We'll see about getting you some dry clothes and a warm drink inside."

Harry followed her lead, happy that there were no sharp stones in the stream or on the bank; though the grass did tickle his bare feet somewhat fierce. Looking around, he noted that the reason for the dim light was the fact that the sun had set below the tree line. Of course, this only made the trees look dark and creepy to the boy. Without realizing it, he had drifted closer to his aunt as they walked, until her long skirt was brushing the edges of his baggy pants. The hand holding hers was squeezed gently, and he looked up at her. Cameron's smile was gentle.

"Almost there, sweetie."

Sure enough when Harry turned to look back at the cottage, he saw that it must have snuck up to meet them, for it was a lot closer than when he looked up at his aunt. His heart skipped a beat. The cottage looked like something out of a fairy-tale. Square window frames held carefully cut diamond shaped glass, thick wooden support beams stuck out and framed the edges of the floors, walls, and ceilings, and one corner of the structure appeared to have a _tower_ coming out of it.

Cameron chuckled and tugged him forward to the door partially hidden by the fading light. Goodness, but wasn't her nephew the _cutest_ little thing? "In we go," she said, holding the door open for him and waiting for him to enter before she did.

Inside, the cottage was very dark. Harry waited on the mat just inside the door, unsure what to do since he couldn't see anything. Hearing, on the other hand… he could hear Cameron walk across the room, pause, then light and heat flooded from the fireplace. _That was fast_, he thought, watching his aunt move to a cupboard and remove some brightly colored blankets. When one was dropped on his head, he realized that it wasn't a blanket but a towel, and very soft at that. Harry pulled the edge over his head to see his aunt with a towel around her neck. She was smiling.

"The best thing to do right now," she said, still smiling at him, "is to get rid of those rags. Take your wet things off and leave them piled here."

Harry looked up at her in alarm. Leave his clothes!? But they were the only ones he had; and there was no way he was going starkers in front of a girl, even if she _was_ family. Cameron's smile got larger. "Don't worry. I think my brother left some of his clothes here last time he visited; they should fit. I'll go and get them. _You_," she reached out a hand to ruffle his already messy hair. "Just need to get dry and warm." With that, she turned and went up the stairs, humming under her breath. Harry panicked. What was he supposed to do?

* * *

When Cameron returned to the downstairs with an armful of her brother's old clothing she found Harry right where she had left him, still clothed and crying silently. Her heart ached at the sight of her nephew, obviously cold and frightened, standing there like he had been abandoned. Swiftly, she crossed the room and dropped to her knees beside him, throwing her arms around the boy and pulling him close. He cried harder.

"Harry, sweetie, what's wrong?"

She almost couldn't make out his response. "I'm sorry, auntie. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What ever for?" but he didn't say anything else, just continued to cry into her already wet shirt. Horrible thoughts began to run through her head, thoughts of Harry being abused with more than just neglect. Her temper flared for the second time that day, and faintly she could hear the pitter-patter of rain on the house and windows. A crash of thunder returned her attention to the boy in her arms, and she forced herself to calm down. Right now, Harry needed her more than anything else.

"It's okay, sweetie. You're not in trouble. You're okay." She continued to murmur nonsense to the boy, gently rubbing his back with one hand. Slowly, he began to calm, his tears reducing to sniffles. Cameron pulled back a little to look at him, using a corner of the towel to wipe away the remaining tears. "Now what brought that on?"

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice just above a whisper.

"For what, sweetie?"

"For not doing what you said. I'm sorry I was bad." Rage flooded Cameron the instant Harry finished his sentence. For him to think that what he did was bad, and apparently bad enough to scare him to tears… Outside, the storm was in a frenzy of noise and wind and rain, reflecting the wrath she felt inside.

Something must have showed on her face, for Harry cringed and edged away, threatening to spill more tears. She noticed this and took a deep breath, closing her eyes in an attempt to regain control of her temper.

"Harry," she said softly, trying not to frighten him again. "What you did was not bad. Silly, but not bad. Do you understand?"

When no immediate answer reached her, she opened her eyes to look at him. He gulped. "But uncle Vernon said-"

"I have an idea," interrupted Cameron, managing a light tone as she spoke. "Let's just forget everything Vernon told you."

"But-"

"Everything." When her nephew continued to look confused, she sighed and pulled him to her lap. "Sweetie, that man doesn't know anything about raising children. He's also a liar, and everyone knows that you can't listen to liars, because they don't tell the truth. Besides, he's not here right now, and he'll never be able to get here. Do you understand, Harry?"

The boy didn't look up to meet her eyes. She put on hand under his chin and tilted his face up, catching his eyes with her own. "Harry, repeat after me: Vernon is not here."

"Vernon is not here." He still kept his voice low, and sounded very unsure.

"Vernon will never be here."

"Vernon will never be here."

"Vernon is a poopy head."

Surprised by his aunt, Harry laughed at her words, barely managing to say the phrase between breaths. He never thought he would hear an adult say the word 'poopy', and hearing her say it with a completely straight face…

It took several minutes for his giggles to subside, during which Cameron had acquired a smile of her own and the storm outside lessened. Once he finished wiping away tears of mirth, she gave him an affectionate squeeze. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now about getting dry…" in less than half an hour, Harry was dried, dressed in clean clothes, had consumed a mug of hot chocolate, bundled up into bed and fast asleep. Cameron stripped off her wet things and slid into a thick nightgown, jumped into bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

A.N.: Reviews are inspiring...


	3. Chapter 3

A.N.: Well, you all got lucky. I was able to sort out the problem by rewriting the entire second half of the chapter. I don't remember if I've told you, but this story will go rather slowly for the most part. I don't want to rush it; sometimes stories that get rushed don't come out as good.

Also, this chapter is un-beta'd. Any mistakes are my own.

Chapter 3

The next morning, Harry awoke to an unfamiliar sensation. Sunlight, streaming in from the window, was lying right across his face. For a long while, he just lay there, wondering when his cupboard had gotten a window. Then the memories hit him; the storm, Cameron, the house, crying in her arms. Now wide awake, he sat up, looking around his new room. A large bed with a quilt worn soft with time and love was in one corner. One wall was almost all window, with an equally long window seat, and a small wardrobe stood near the door. Two small stands, one near the bed, the other near the window, and a single round rug on the floor was it.

Blinking, Harry noticed something odd about the air. It smelled like… breakfast? Immediately his stomach growled, and the boy scrambled out of bed, intent on finding the source.

Out of the room he went; past the small landing with two other doors, down the stairs, and past the fire place. He paused, suddenly feeling shy, and peered around the corner to look into the kitchen. Cameron, already dressed for the day, stood over an old-fashioned wood-burning stove, clearly cooking something. A table in the corner already had several dishes on it, and two mismatched chairs pushed up to the edges. When Harry turned his gaze back to his aunt, he noticed that the kitchen was missing a fridge, and a proper oven. And it had none of the appliances that Petunia had loved to buy for _her_ kitchen. Though there was a sink, but it had what looked like an ancient water pump next to it, instead of the shiny faucets common in the Dursleys house.

A small smile crossed his face; this really _was_ a fairytale cottage!

Moving carefully, Cameron tilted the pan so the scrambled eggs in it would fall neatly onto the plate she had set nearby. She set the pan in the sink where she would get to it and the other dishes after they were done eating. Inside, Cameron was singing; she had her nephew with her, a breakfast fit for a king, and no summons to go out. It was looking like she would get to spend the whole day with her Harry.

As she was setting the plate on the last available spot on the table, she caught a shadow from the corner of her eye. She turned to look and gave her nephew a wide grin. "Good morning, sunshine!"

Harry blushed and ducked his head. "Good morning."

"I didn't know what you wanted for breakfast, so I made a little of everything." Cameron pulled out a chair and beckoned her nephew closer, then helped him scramble into it. His eyes went wide at the sight of all the food.

"Auntie…"

"Since I'm taller, why don't you tell me what you want and I'll put it on your plate, okay?"

"Okay. What are those?"

"Those? They're biscuits."

"Biscuits?! But they look like scones!"

Cameron laughed. "Sorry, I forgot. These are what Americans call biscuits. What the British call biscuits, we call cookies. Here," she said, picking one up and fixing it. "They're really good with butter and jam."

"Thanks." The rest of the meal passed with Cameron explaining the difference between American named food and British named food. Every so often, Cameron would say something that would make her nephew laugh, and each laugh made him shed a little bit of his shyness. By the end of breakfast Harry was comfortable enough with his aunt to ask her questions, his first being an offer to help with the dishes. Cameron just smiled at him.

"That won't be necessary, sweetie. Watch." After putting the dirty dishes in the sink, she went to the old pump and poured water in. For a moment, nothing was happening, then the water began to bubble and the dishes shifted and sank beneath the surface. A miniature tidal wave washed a plate onto the nearby countertop, and then receded, leaving the sparkling plate behind. Cameron calmly picked up the plate and put it in its proper cupboard. She turned to look at Harry who was staring at the sink, watching as another plate was pushed onto the counter.

"H-h-how-"

"Magic, sweetie." Cameron moved from the counter to her nephew and kneeled in front of him. "I was born with magic. So was your mother, and so were you."

"W-what?"

Cameron stood, looking deep into Harry's eyes as she did so. "You don't know, do you." It wasn't a question, so he didn't answer. She glanced about, as though expecting to see someone watching her, then looked back at Harry. "Wait here for a moment, dearie." Vanishing around the corner, her footsteps indicated that she had gone upstairs, rather quickly at that.

Bemused, Harry stood where he was in the kitchen, patiently waiting for his aunt to return downstairs. He didn't have long to wait, as she soon reappeared with an enormous book in her arms. When Cameron beckoned him to join her in the living room, he followed, his curiosity getting the better of him. Gently, she pulled Harry into the living room and sat on one of the armchairs near the fireplace. Tugging Harry onto her lap, she wiggled until they were both comfortable. The book was held over his lap, and when it was opened, Harry gasped at the photos inside.

On the very first page was a single large photograph, with a beautiful older woman standing behind two young girls and an even younger boy, all of them with the same red hair. It was obviously a family portrait, causing a small twinge in Harry's heart. He pushed the feeling away to listen to what his aunt was saying.

"This little girl," said Cameron, gesturing to the girl on the left, "was your mother. Her name was Lilith, but she hated being called that."

"She did?" asked Harry, surprised. Cameron nodded.

"Yup. She made everyone call her Lily. And I mean _everyone_. When she was little she would throw the most spectacular fits whenever someone called her by her full name. Once I asked her why we had to call her Lily. She told me that it fit her better than Lilith did. It turns out she was right."

"How?"

Cameron laughed. "Lilith means "of the night". Your mother seemed to exist for the sunlight-just like a flower would. Now this one," and she gestured to the boy, "is our brother, Arden. He's always been hot-tempered, even as a small child. Not to mention the prankster of the family. One of his favorite past-times was to sneak spiders and frogs into our coat pockets and listen to us scream when we found them. Lily finally got tired of it and got him back. I'm not quite sure what she did to him-" here she turned several pages in to show the boy running from Lily with an expression that could be nothing but terror on his face, "but from that day on, Arden was too afraid of spiders to ever get close to them again. Mother tried so hard not to laugh."

Harry turned his head to look at his aunt. The wistful tone her voice had taken on let him know that she was getting lost in her thoughts. It must have been a really good memory for her; Harry didn't want to bug her when she appeared so happy, so he amused himself with looking at the other pictures on the page while he waited. One was of Cameron reading a book with an intense expression of concentration on her face. The next was of Arden giving a wrapped gift to a girl his age with blond hair, both of them blushing. Last was of Lily leaning over a table, with metal scraps, and tools scattered over the surface. She was glancing at the camera in surprise.

"I remember that picture," it seemed that Cameron had returned to reality, and was giggling at the photo. "Lily was working on her project for Masago, and was so deep in concentration that she didn't notice me sneaking up on her with a camera until I called her name. She was mad at me for breaking her concentration, but I made it up to her later by bringing her dinner."

"What was she making?" Harry peered at the picture, but he couldn't make heads or tails of the metal scraps within.

"She was making a clock. I believe she started it when she was twelve. There seemed to be a large amount of expensive wood coming and going, and she spent a lot of time with the local metal-worker."

"Did she finish it?"

Cameron frowned. "I've never seen it, so I don't know. At one point she was upset with it, but she never told me why. She died a few months later, and I think that Masago must have it. He was her Master, after all."

"Master?" _That_ confused Harry. Were Masters allowed here?

"Yes-oh, that's right, you wouldn't know. Masago's title is Master, but it just means that he's the best at what he does. After seeing Lily's power, he decided to teach her himself. She was the first student he had taken on in forty years; there was a lot of commotion over it, but Masago is a stubborn man and wouldn't let anyone sway him from his decision."

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question when a sharp knocking on the door interrupted him. Gently, Cameron set both the book and her nephew on the floor and went to answer it.

"Yes?"

A mans voice drifted in. "Madame Hydra, the village needs your help. A child has wandered into the woods, if you would please-"

"Of course. Harry," she called over her shoulder, and he came to her. Kneeling, she looked him in the eye. "I need to leave for a little while. You'll be good and stay inside until I get back, okay?" He nodded, making her smile at him as she pulled him in for a hug. "That's my boy. Oh, and don't open the door for anyone, even me. I'll tell you why when I get back." She kissed his head and left, shutting the door behind herself.

Cameron's departure left Harry with a load of questions. Why wasn't he supposed to open the door? How was she going to get back in if he didn't open the door? Why did that man call Auntie 'Madame Hydra'? And what did she mean when she said Lily had power? Was she talking about magic?

All these questions and more were bouncing around in Harry's head, giving him a horrible headache. He shuffled back to the chair and clambered back into it, ignoring the album on the floor. Maybe if he shut his eyes, the headache would go away. Slowly, the pain faded, and Harry was lulled to sleep by the first full stomach he could remember and the warm morning sunshine pouring in through the large window.

* * *

A.N.: Now while I am thankful to my eight reviewers, I am confused as to whether or not anyone else is interested in this fic, since no one else has reviewed. Is anyone aside from those eight actually reading this, or is it just so horrible that I should pull it down and just distribute it to my friends who are too polite to tell me it sucks?


	4. Chapter 4

A.N.: Thank you to all my reviewers for being so patient and for leaving such nice reviews. Here's the next chapter, and if you have not guessed by now, it's moving slowly. This one feels a little shorter, though there is a _smidgen_ of plot (you can see it if you tilt your head and squint).

CHAPTER 4

"It's no use, Albus. There's no trace of that woman or Harry." Minerva stood before her mentor, tired and still a little damp even after several drying spells. From where he sat Severus could see the slight tremor in her frame, exhaustion etching lines in her face. He growled to himself before raising his voice to be heard by the others.

"I have questioned the muggles more…_extensively_, and while Dursley had no idea who she was, his wife did. For several years now she has been taking bribes from an unknown wizard to pose as Lily's sister, dating back to when Lily was in school here. Unfortunately, she was never informed _why_, and so neither was I."

Albus Dumbledore looked as old as he felt, and was unable to contain the sigh that emerged. "I have spoken with Miss Booker, the Ministry agent that gave her Harry's address. The woman we are looking for is named Cameron Tempest. Are either of you familiar with this name?"

Minerva shook her head as Severus spoke. "No, but after fifth-" he stopped and drew in a deep breath. "Why don't you ask your pet wolf what he knows?"

"My boy… that is an excellent idea."

* * *

Harry opened his eyes, unsure what had awoken him. The house was quiet around him, making it easy to hear the muted calling of the birds outside. He closed his eyes, but opened them after a few moments. After his brief nap, sleep was the last thing on his mind. But what to do? Outside wasn't an option; he had promised to remain indoors. Sitting up, Harry looked around the room, jumping in fright when a door slammed shut behind him. Turning to look only confirmed that he was alone in the room. Then, on the wall…something inside him clenched in fear at the sight of a door underneath the staircase.

Slowly, he slid off the chair and inched closer to the small door. A nasty part of Harry's mind wondered if this was where he would be forced to sleep if he misbehaved before he pushed the thought away. His auntie was so nice; surely she'd never make him sleep in a cupboard. Would she?

But now he was close to the door, close enough to reach the handle and twist it open. _Warm air_? Harry opened his eyes (when had they shut?) and saw, instead of a cupboard, another set of stairs. Unlike the ones above, these stairs lead down, under the house. There didn't seem to be any light switches, but Harry reasoned that if he left the door open and went slow, then nothing would go wrong.

A sound, very similar to wind blowing through leaves drifted up to meet him, followed by the murmur of voices. Harry felt his fear trickle away and curiosity take its place. First one foot, then the other, he slowly made his way down the stairs, away from the warm morning light in the living room.

* * *

Out in the forest, Cameron had returned the child to her parents and was herself returning home when a sudden chill struck her heart. She stopped in her tracks, terror gripping her heart like a vice.

"Harry."

* * *

The staircase was longer than he expected, with a few sharp turns he found by bonking his nose on the wall in the darkness. Thankfully he could see light up ahead, and the voices were getting louder. Not to mention clearer.

"-kind of fool do you take me for, Copperrisk? There haven't been any children in the house since young Arden left with the Phoenix Lord, and he hasn't returned since!"

Harry was now on the last step, peeking into the light and the figures it revealed.

"But sir-"

Shocked, Harry didn't realize he had stepped out of the shadows, unknowingly announcing his presence.

"Quit jumping at shadows, brat, and give Lady Hydra the fu-" noticing the expression on Copperrisk's face, the speaker whirled around, coming face to face with a child as tall as he was. The boy noticed their sharply pointed chins, wide but narrow eyes, stocky bodies with long arms, and stiff leather armor almost hiding cruel looking weapons. It was Harry who, with all the tact of a seven year old child, spoke first.

"What are you?"

"Goblins," responded the leader in a tone that could have frozen lava. The boy wilted a little, his awe fading rapidly. "You, however, shall address me as Hammerswing. Now who are _you_, and what are you doing in Lady Hydra's home?"

"Auntie Cameron-"

"_Auntie_ Cameron?!" interrupted Copperrisk, utterly suprised. Hammerswing glared at him, then looked back to Harry.

"Aunt Cameron?" he asked, his glare revealing much suspicion. Harry nodded.

"Auntie Cameron is my mum's sister." Total silence followed the statement, with both goblins staring at Harry like they'd just seen a ghost. It was making him nervous, but when he opened his mouth to speak, the goblins moved closer.

"Yes," murmured Hammerswing, leaning in entirely too close for Harry's comfort. "Yes, I can see it now. You _are_ Miss Lily's child." As though catching himself leaning, the goblin moved back a pace, bowing his head respectfully to the child. "My apologies, little one, I did not mean to be so rude. It is the duty of myself and my followers to protect the Tempest house from their enemies, and it would not be the first time a child was used against them-" he stopped speaking, eyes closing as he repressed a bad memory. Next to him, Copperrisk sniffled, wiping his eyes with the ragged edge of his sleeve, apparently remembering the same thing. Hammerswing continued. "At any rate, the others must be told of your arrival. Please, take this." He handed Harry a round mirror, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. "If you should be in danger, just call my name. I will protect you." Nodding a farewell, he grabbed Copperrisk by the shoulder and pulled the smaller goblin down the tunnel.

"Ah, wait!" a scroll came flying at Harry, who caught it before it could hit his head. "Give that to Lady Hydra, please!" then they were gone.

Harry stood there, blinking at the dark end of the tunnel and wondering what that was all about. When he heard someone frantically call his name, he hurriedly shoved the mirror into a pocket and ran for the stairs. As soon as he cleared the door at the top he was swept up into a fierce hug by his aunt, who he could feel was trembling.

"Never," she whispered into his hair, trying not to cry. "Never again."

"Auntie? What's wrong?"

Cameron sank to her knees, still trembling. She pulled far enough away to look him in the eye. "It's not safe, sweetie. You could get lost down there and I'd never find you. Promise me you won't go down there by yourself again."

"O-okay."

"_Promise me!_" tears began to trail down her face, and Harry's heart hurt, because he knew it was his fault she was crying.

"I promise, auntie, I promise! Please don't cry anymore! I won't go down there again, just please stop crying!" he threw his arms around her neck, unable to hold in his own tears.

The two of them remained like that for some time, until they both had calmed, at which point Cameron led him into the kitchen for some much needed hot chocolate. Part way through their cups, she asked him what he was holding. Harry looked at his hand, which was still clutching the scroll. He handed it to her. "Copperrisk asked me to give it to you." The next thing Harry was aware of was being coated by warm liquid as his aunt spat out her drink in surprise.

"_What?!_" her voice came out in a squawk, reaching octaves high above her norm even as she moved to help him wipe off the remains of her drink. "You spoke to Copperrisk? Who else was down there?"

"Hammerswing."

"_Sweet mercy_! Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"N-no, he didn't. He said he would protect me."

Cameron swallowed. "Were those his exact words, Harry?"

He nodded, accepting the napkin his aunt handed him and started wiping off the excess chocolate. Murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like "I'm getting too old for this," Cameron returned to her seat and unrolled the parchment. There must not have been much written on it for she set it down a moment later. The frown on her face worried Harry deeply.

"Is everything okay?"

Snapping back to reality, Cameron smiled at her nephew - it wouldn't do to worry him needlessly. "Yup. Looks like we're going to the Ministry tomorrow to get you registered."

Harry just stared at her. _Registered? For what?_

A.N. You know what to do...


	5. Chapter 5

A.N.: My inserts don't like me, so I'm trying to put it back up.

Chapter 5

"So _where_ are we going again?"

"I told you sweetie, we're going to the Ministry Branch to get you registered."

"And how far away is it?"

"Much too far to walk, you don't know how to fly a broom yet, and I can't stand riding in cars."

"So you pulled out a carpet?"

Cameron stood over the old square rug she had unrolled minutes earlier, impatiently smoothing out wrinkles. She answered her nephews' questions with much more patience. "This isn't just any old carpet, Harry. This is a magic carpet."

Swallowing his reply (_it doesn't look like a magic carpet_) Harry doubted that, magic or not, it would be able to hold a pillow, much less two people. There were worn spots in several places, a suspicious rust colored stain near the back, and three of the edges were charred from fire. Seeing his expression, Cameron laughed.

"It's better than it looks. This carpet has been in the family for years—a gift from the previous Pegasus. The enchantments on it that allow it to fly will hold up long after the rug itself is gone." She paused at the confused look that overtook his face. "Is something wrong, sweetie?"

"Pegasus?"

Blue eyes twinkled at him. "It looks like I'm going to be answering a good many questions on this flight."

Twenty minutes later, with the cottage locked up and Harry sitting in Cameron's lap (there was no way he was going to trust that rug, no matter what she said), they were up in the air, the carpet carrying them to the Ministry Branch in the west.

"Okay, sweetie," and Harry started because he could hear her so clearly over the wind rushing around them, "We're going to be up here for a while, and you looked like you had a lot of questions. Which one do you want to start with?"

He didn't even think about order. "Who is Pegasus?"

"Pegasus is the title given to the most powerful wind user alive. With that title comes a lot of responsibility. Especially in making sure that other wind users don't do anything bad with their power. Now, her title may be Pegasus, but her real name is Bayo. She is a very kind lady who has _complete_ mastery over the air and wind. If she wanted to, she could send out a breeze gentle enough to push toy ships across a pond, or call up wind storms strong enough to tear up trees and toss them over mountains. There are nine other Mages with similar titles."

"Like the Phoenix- and you! That man yesterday called you 'Lady Hydra'!"

Oh, her nephew was just _too_ cute! "Yes, Phoenix has power over fire. And yes, that man did. I am the Hydra because I have the same kind of power over water. Your mother was supposed to be the next Centaur, who has power over time. That one's very difficult to achieve, since time is so complicated."

Harry paused a moment to process that. "So, since you're so powerful, doesn't that mean you can do anything?"

"No, sweetie, it doesn't. Having this much power means that I am the person least able to do as I please. If I lose control, or worse, turn bad, I could hurt or kill thousands of innocent people, maybe more. When I get mad, rain falls, rivers overflow, and the oceans swallow ships. I'd much rather use my power to help others. As I hope you will use your power, once we figure out what it is."

"Oh. And we can do that at the Ministry?"

"Yup. We'll also get you registered so that if you need help from them, they can find you easily."

"Okay." A pressing question shoved its way to the front. "You said that Uncle Vernon couldn't get here. Why not? Are we really so far away?"

"We are. We're in another dimension." At his blank look, she realized that he was a little too young to understand time/space travel, and sought to make an easy to understand explanation. "You know how when you stand in front of a mirror, and everything looks the same?" he nodded. "And how, when you move an arm, your reflection copies you?" another nod. "But even though it's copying you, it doesn't move the same arm. You may move your right arm—your reflection will move its left. Your reflection is just like you, but also completely different. When we went from Surry to here, we crossed from one side of the mirror to another. Dursley doesn't know how to get to this side of the mirror, so he can't get to us here. Does that make any sense?"

"I guess. Is that why I was stuck with the Dursleys, instead of with you? Because no one could get here?"

"Yes, sweetie, and I am so sorry for that. Lily had gone to that side a while ago, and fell in love with your dad. While she was there, some bad people were making a lot of trouble here, and I was needed to help stop them. When all was said and done, years had passed since I last spoke to my sister, and I went to find her. I had no idea she had-"

Harry waited patiently for Cameron to gather her composure, realizing that this was a sensitive topic for the moment. He cast around for another question. "Why wasn't I supposed to open the door after you left yesterday?"

"Because the forest near the cottage is an enchanted forest, but with no nice creatures living among the trees. Almost everything there will try to hurt you, or worse, eat you. And since there are spells of protection around our home, which they cannot cross, they will try to lure you outside where you aren't safe. There is a small village on the outskirts of the forest that relies on me and a few others to protect them from danger."

"Do they have titles too?"

"No, they're regular Mages. Two who use wood, one who uses lightening, and one who uses metal. They are very talented, and have worked together for several years now. I'll introduce you to them later."

"Okay."

* * *

The Ministry Branch was a very important looking building on the edge of a cliff overlooking an ocean. White marble statues littered the open field leading to the building itself. Harry would have stopped to stare if Cameron hadn't had a good hold of his hand.

"There'll be plenty of time for that later, sweetie, and goodness knows this won't be the last time you'll come here."

The inside looked like a museum. Small clusters of people talking softly, or walking by in groups or alone. And so much stuff! Tapestries hung at regular intervals from the ceiling and walls. Marble pedestals lined the walls, each with some odd artifact resting upon it.

"Auntie?" Harry tugged on her hand, and when she looked at him, he pointed to the nearest artifact, a large crown missing some jewels.

"That crown used to belong to a Mundane king several hundred years ago. It was a gift from a metal user when the king offered him shelter from a terrible storm. This building, as well as all the other Ministry buildings, serve as resting places for artifacts and tools created by Mages. Everything on display has a story attached, and everything has some form of magic in it. Like this crown. Supposedly, if you wear it no one will be able to target you with a weapon. Of course, it requires all the original jewels to function correctly."

"Cameron! Darling!"

"Kalinda!" Cameron embraced a stunningly beautiful woman of Indian descent, her vibrant green sari emphasizing her light brown skin. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I am the one who will help you register your nephew. Is this the little one?"

"Yes, this is my Harry." The boy felt his heart fill with warmth at his aunt's words. No one had ever called him 'their Harry' before. "Harry, this is Kalinda. She has been a very good friend of mine for a very long time now."

Kalinda smiled gently at him, causing Harry to blush and look away. "Nice to meet you," he mumbled.

"Such a sweet boy." Cooed the woman, delighted with his manners. "I hope you are a light user."

"Now now," teased Cameron as the small group began walking. "You shouldn't jinx yourself like that. He'll never be able to use light if you keep wishing out loud."

"Hmph." Kalinda stuck her nose into the air, teasing her friend right back. "I suppose you believe him to be a water user."

"There is one in every generation of Tempest for the past seven hundred years, my dear Kalinda."

"Your memory is poor if you have forgotten that all of those water users were women. Harry is most certainly _not_ a woman."

"Water chooses equally from both genders, whereas light greatly prefers women. Only a handful of light users in history have ever been men."

"That means nothing! He still has a chance of using light!"

"A small chance."

"Still a chance."

"Very small."

"Arguing again, ladies?"

"Rowan!" both women exclaimed, turning to a very tall and lean man not much older than Cameron. The way he was smiling at the women made Harry think that he was up to making mischief. Apparently, they thought so too.

"What are you up to now, brat?" asked Kalinda, planting her hands on her hips. He only smiled wider at her.

"Up to, my dear lady-?" Cameron's snort cut him off.

"Rowan-" A scream of outrage cut _her _off.

"Ah, I believe that is my cue to leave. Good day, ladies." And he bolted for the exit, smiling all the way. Moments later a very angry man appeared, sheets of paper sticking to him in odd places and smelling strongly of tree sap. He didn't say anything, and neither did Kalinda. She simply pointed the man to the exit where Rowan made his escape. The man nodded and stomped away.

Cameron smiled. "Have you noticed Rowan restricting his pranks for those who haven't converted to the new computer system?"

"I have. He so detests the waste of trees. Oh well, onwards and upwards!"

Kalinda led the group up a flight of stairs and down a very quiet hallway. One unremarkable door later and Harry thought he was in a fairytale again. Glass jars filled with peculiar and somewhat random substances completely covered two walls, and a large workstation underneath long cabinets took up the third.

At the station, Kalinda pulled down a thick glass bowl with runes etched carefully all over the outside. Then a glass jar with pale grey powder and a plastic spoon. Three scoops went into the bowl, and the jar with spoon was put away. A small blade was handed to Cameron.

"Harry, sweetie, this is the hard part. This bowl is unbreakable, made to contain raw power. The powder is one half of the catalyst that will tell us what your power is. The other half it needs is your blood."

"Blood?"

"Yes, sweetie. Not a lot, mind you, just three drops."

"Will it hurt?"

"Not at all."

Harry thought about this. He didn't want to get hurt. Even a little blood hurt, as he remembered when he skinned his knees on the playground after Dudley pushed him. But his auntie promised it wouldn't hurt, and they needed his blood to know what power he had. Most importantly, to him at least, he didn't want to disappoint his auntie.

"Okay." He held out his hand and shut his eyes, unable to watch the act itself. Warm hands held his small one for several seconds, then Cameron told him it was okay to look. Uncertain, he opened his eyes and saw blood on the blade. He looked at his hand, but there were no marks and definitely no pain. Puzzled, he looked at his auntie, and she felt a pang in her heart. _He really thought I was going to hurt him._

"Oh sweetie, this blade has runes in it as well. Three to take away the pain and three to heal cut back up. All ritual blades come standard like this. I keep forgetting you don't know these things. But here—you'll want to watch this."

She took the blade and tapped it over the bowl, shaking three drops loose. At the third drop a quiet whispering echoed through room, and the grey powder began to darken. It also started to fill the bowl, slowly at first, then with increasing speed. The bowl was vibrating against the table, getting violent when the almost black substance reached the lip and did not pass. A sudden jump had all three moving away from the table, when a second threatened to tip it off the table. Cracks began to appear in the sides, and with a shriek of strained glass the bowl shattered, sending what seemed to be pound after pound of dark substance off the table and across the floor.

"Goodness!" cried Kalinda at the break, and Cameron picked up Harry as dark matter swept past their feet and approached their knees. When the bowl appeared empty, both women looked at each other, with utter shock.

"Earth."


End file.
